my hands are trembling
on your story
of a plot that vibrates
with fear
like the leaves of an aspen
one autumn breeze
like i were a child
quaking always
asking for more
like the quivering
poplar tree
my shaking knees
on shaky feet
i changed perspective
about this
shivering
i must see
the sparkling lights
from some shivering
crystals
of the chandeliers
of this
old house
where this family
of mine
still thrive
wanting to get
rid of
trembling hands
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